


Neighbors

by portbleck



Category: Pocket Mortys, Rick and Morty
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Oral Sex, Riding, i have no clue what this is, i was sober at the start then i drank in the middle and i sobered up by the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 05:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5730409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/portbleck/pseuds/portbleck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Storage Rick has a problem that he goes to Surgeon Rick to fix<br/>Surgeon Rick has a problem he needs Storage Rick to fix<br/>I have a problem with righting rarepairs with the same names as each other an it makes writing really hard this is the second time I've done this wtf even</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neighbors

It was a glorious morning on the courtyard just outside of the citadel. Ricks and aliens buzzed about with purpose, mothering or shunning their respective Morties, flitting between the healing centre and Salesman Rick’s before blipping into another reality with a portal gun, or the randomized public portal if they were new to Morty training or just really bored.

Storage Rick was really bored, but cooped up behind a desk, he couldn’t really go out adventuring or do any tinkering.

Being here was a punitive measure of course. The Council had to do something about petty crimes within the Rick Community, so they had them doing the administrative jobs that no self respecting Rick would do just out of charity to sustain this weird little society of theirs.

That was except for surgeon Rick. That Rick dabbled more in biology than most others, he also didn’t have a Morty, never did. That’s why he was so keen to lend his services in taking care of Morties for free, creating his new machine that would realign the defects of a beat up Morty and the occasional blacked out Rick. 

At least that’s what the gossip mill surrounding him suggested. Storage Rick doesn’t actually care if he’s honest, he’d rather hear in from the horse’s mouth, but his neighbor intimidates him just a bit, so making friends isn't really on his agenda.

Rick’s tired introspection turned to a Rick walking excitedly up the stairs, towards the Blits and Chitz machine more specifically. He saw him skip impatiently over miscellaneous scrap parts, until the Morty Deck entry card revealed his boon to him and he cheered fervently. There was a blip on hardware to his left that tells Storage Rick that his jubilant clone striding over to him has just had his new prize put in his digital lockbox.

Rick bets that it’ll be a reverse mermaid Morty.

“W-welcome to Morty Daycare; Withdraw or Deposit?” He delivered his line monotone, just as the smirking Rick smacked his hands down to rest on the desk. 

“Deposit.” He said smugly.

He grunts in reply and craned his head to the side to see the line of dazed and bruised Morties anxiously cooing around their Rick. Without hesitation, this Rick took a shivering and bloody, scruffy Morty in bridal carry and handed him over the counter.

Rick raised his eyes with causal incredulity at the patter of blood on his papers, before sighing and taking the Morty off his hands.

“Sit there for a- for a sec,” Rick directed Morty to his own swivel chair “is there anything else?”

“Yeah withdraw my m-mermaid Morty.”

So close, Rick thought to himself.

He went into the pasture behind the warehouse and found a sopping wet mass which he scooped up and handed over to the Rick.

“Congratulations, it’s a Morty.”

Rick propped the slimy Morty up on the floor, holding its shoulders to help him learn to balance after being an incorporeal representation so himself trapped in a plastic sphere for a while.

“Cool. Bye Rick.” He said as he waved, the weak-limbed procession following after him to the Healing Centre.

Rick watched them leave, then turned to the occupant of his chair and the hastily stored Morties behind him. 

“Now, what am I going to do with you all…”

It was then that the new Morty’s ear that had been dangling at his shoulder fell off and onto the already blood soaked floor.

“Ok, that’s it,” Rick huffed, picking up the ear and grabbing Morty’s arm, “Fucking trainers keep leaving these wrecked Morties here without healing them up first.”

He led Morty to the back door where he whistled between his teeth to alert the others.

“Any Morty with bleeding or- or dismemberment just follow me, ok? I’m sick of cleaning up your medical waste.”

Once all the Morties assembled, determining the severity of blood loss or maiming, Rick put up the frequently used ‘On break’ signed and pied-pipered his way to the clinic.

He stopped at the stall and tapped his foot whilst the flashes of light in the background healed up the Morties of a crop top clad alien who loving accepted them back into their arms one by one as they emerged, blinking vacantly from a side door.

“Yo, Rick?” Rick said after the adoptive family had gotten out of the way.

“Hey! Storage Rick right?” Surgeon Rick replied, grinning, waving a hand with a scalpel held between the meat of his palm and thumb. “That’s a lotta M-Morties you got there.”

“Yeah, assholes keep not healing their Morties before storing them and the f-floor is getting coagulated and sticky.”

“Well… I could prob- urp- ably heal them all but it's gonna take some time. You ok with w-w-w-waiting a few hours?”

Rick groaned, knowing he’d get chewed out for taking the Morties out of the storage locker, but he’d rather have all the Morties in one piece and not spewing blood everywhere than avoid some smarmy Rick with dumb hair threatening that they'd take away his portal gun but not actually do anything.

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll just leave you to it then.”

“Actually,” surgeon Rick said with a small tug of his mouth into a smile, twirling the scalpel as he elaborated “if you still have your break then I could use with some h-h-help around back… The healing machine does most of it by itself and with this amount of injuries in this severity, not gonna be able to s-serve any customers for a while.”

Storage Rick was getting worried. His manic medical counterpart on the other side of the desk was angling for something dodgy, clearly, but he wasn’t quite sure whether he was gonna fuck him or cannibalize him. Or if he was just weird and genuinely needed help lifting boxes. Whatever it was, it beat pen-pushing surrounded by Morties. He’d just have to answer to Maximums Rickimus or whatever trite bullshit the Council Members had started to disguise themselves with these days; but that came with the territory of being an underachieving Rick in the Citadel.

“Sure, why not.”

Rick’s stunted little smirk grew into a beam and he moved so that Rick could slide over the counter.

The dark little room was quickly filled up with Morties in restoration beds, after which Rick gave them instructions and turned the machines on, covering his new plaything’s eyes with his hands so the flashing, healing light wouldn’t explode his eyes out of his skull; pushing him into a smaller room with one bed and one desk, for diagnosing.

As Rick blinked his eyes open from the forceful relocation, he saw surgeon Rick leaning close in from when he’d physically led him to the room the where they were now both in. Cannibalism or fucking seemed to be the most likely options for this dainty, little doctor’s leering intentions.

Getting a good look at the surgeon was difficult from this angle, but well worth it.

He knew that this Rick wore a nurse’s pencil-line skirt. What he didn't realize was just how short it was. His waistline was clinched in by an almost corset-like mid section. The uniform was just so at odds with itself, the macho shoulder pads tapering down across a slim stomach, the flouncy plastic sleeves against the clinical rubber gloves, not to mention the stereotypical paper crown with a hippocratic cross and the latex in parts that screamed a pornographic mimicry of real medicine.

As the Rick bounced away to go and fiddle with the contents of a cabinet, Rick was able to get a glimpse of the long legs made taunt by the clunky high heels he wore, each with small green crosses stitched on their tongues. As if that wasn’t enough, each slender, slightly hairy, calf was wrapped in a sheer, turquoise stocking.

Thigh highs. He was wearing fucking thigh highs.

Everything about him just had a techno-dominatrix feel to him, being a predatory philanthropist bent on teasing a fear boner out of him was enough. But the effect of sharp toothed grins and the flailing of medical equipment during extended speech was only exacerbated by his need to dress like a pro-domme from the 80s. 

He felt his bony ass hit against the bed as he admired the similarly thin figure grasp at a tube and a stack of papers from the draw, slamming it shut with his hip and walking over to the bed.

Rick sat down, crinkling the paper covering of the bed and was just about to ask what he needed help with when the other Rick dropped into his lap with a squeak of latex. 

“Is- is this was you needed help with?” Rick asked with a hitching voice.

“There aren’t any comfortable chairs in here, th-th-this should do nicely though.” Risk replied, wriggling around as if to find a more comfortable position.

Rick was hardly a novice to a bit of teasing, not quite dry humping, but something about it being with another Rick was just overwhelming. As the Rick skimmed over each report, he moved, crossing and uncrossing his legs seeming without care as to its impact on his goateed partner. The more he read, the more he came in close to Rick’s chest, his curved shoulder flush with the nervous expansion and contraction of Storage Rick’s rib cage. 

The inevitable chubbing of his dick went unnoticed by the Rick until he put his reports down and cast a chastising smile on to his alternate after hearing a small outburst of ‘oh fuuck’.

“I think I’m done playing this game.” Rick said, exhausted.

“Really? B-because I think it's time for level two.”

He snaked a hand quickly up to the nape of the healer’s neck, knocking the glasses off his face and bringing him down for a toothy kiss.

It was ravenous and messy, long and visceral. He darted a tongue against the roof of his mouth, and surgeon Rick huffed a laugh, tugging on storage Rick’s lip with his teeth.

Rick was swung around from below, letting him kneel above Rick with a leg either side of his waist, long thin fingers grasping his thighs, crumpling the skirt higher and getting a peak at the aqua floral cotton against weathered legs.

“Who-who-whose gonna bottom?” Asked Rick exasperatedly.

“Prep me and I’ll ride you.” Responded Rick, snapping a glove off with his teeth in order to unzip his partner and tease him through the unbuttoned fly, handing him the lube with his still gloved hand.

After some awkward fumbling into position and storage Rick hastily flinging both shirts on to the floor, Rick was laid flat on the bed with a thump and canted his hips up. Rick twirled his fingers around the elasticated waistband of abrasive lace, pulling them down his legs until they caught around the ankle of his platform boot. Surgeon Rick raised his legs up to be caught on Rick’s shoulders, hugged closer as he squeezed some medical grade lube over his hand, before crouching for better access.

One fingertip coaxed his hole open slowly, wiggling for entry before sliding in gently. Rick grit his teeth, relishing the fraught nerve action of the single digit, arching his back to invite more in. He was opened up easily, until the two central fingers thrust in and out with ease, curling upwards.

Just as Rick was about to grab his dick, a gloved hand slapped it away and surgeon Rick struggled upright.

“Gonna get your cock in me before any of that shit.”

Rick nodded and stood to full height with a click of his knees, taking his alternate’s place on the bed as he adjusted it to the perfect incline for fucking.

Rick knelt over him once more, but this time there was something less flirtatious and more domineering. He placed Rick’s hands bracketing his lower back and angled himself onto the cock he held in his hand, sinking down until he heard Rick thunk his head against leather end of the bed, before slamming his hips down hard and laughing lowly at the reaction.

He desperately wanted to forcibly move those hips against his own, but sensed that doing so would enact some kind of wrath in Rick.

So he just sat there and let the sensation wash over him, the troughs of gentle, shallow fucking and the peak of pounding rapidly down, his alternate’s asshole clenching and relaxing to create a coil of ember-hot pleasure in high stomach.

It built and built until Rick leaned back so his taunt stomach stretched out and he languidly began stroking his own dick, observing with curious amusement as storage Rick panted, ineffectually fucking his hips upwards.

Still with one hand jerking his cock, Rick leaned over his submissive counterpart, clawing a set of sharp-trimmed nails over his scarred chest, then toying with the nub of a nibble, then kissing up his neck and clavicle. 

Rick came with a pair of teeth around his throat and a final thrust by the dominant above him.

In order to spare the over stimulation of a tight ring of muscle around a softening dick, Rick untangled himself from himself and pull off. Sighing and sitting in the desk chair, he reassigned to get himself off whilst Rick regained his energy.

Just as he closed his eyes though, he heard a shuffling, and suddenly a pair of familiar hands were on him. Rick slotted himself underneath the desk, in between his thighs. That got his eyes open.

Rick meant to thank him for the offer of oral, but could only emit a labored breath as he felt the scrape of facial hair against his inner thigh.

He started with an open mouthed swipe of his tongue on his cock and a shaky hard was brought down to card through the thinning blue-silver locks, grabbing a good bit of scalp and feeling the efforts of Rick to pleasure him. The pursed lips that swallowed up his head sent bolts of warm satisfaction throughout his body.

As Rick took more of the dick, he began thumbing the man above him’s perineum, an index finger poking at his already fucked out hole.

“F-f-fuck Rick, just k-k-k-keep doing that,” his grip on Rick’s skull was firmer, with him fucking Rick’s face until small gagging noises could be heard “R-Rick lemme cum down your throat, f-f-fuck, just ah-“ 

A wash of bitter cum went down Rick’s throat, swallowing it, moving a few inches then collapsing on the bed. It had been too long since he’d had a fuck, and he’d missed this.

After about thirsty seconds, he got up again and put one shirt back on, clapping Rick on the shoulder.

“I’m gonna go take my M-Morties back, but…” Rick smiled with memory, “If you wanna grab some drinks with me after your shift, w-w-we could tried to top this?”

“It’s a deal.” Surgeon Rick smiled exhaustedly but grabbed his hand to shake it.

**Author's Note:**

> lol sorry this was awful surgeon rick is just such a hottie and i couldn't wait for someone more talented to write about him getting plowed


End file.
